A few years back, Nuclear Blast’s catalogue was proudly displaying their affiliation with the Roman-themed band Ex Deo, whose members basically consisted of the Canadian death metal band Kataklysm. Adorning various promotional photos was front man, Maurizio Iacono, bearing a sword and/or looking dramatically sideways with mouth agape and arms outstretched, in full gladiatorial dress. The images, combined with my general disinterest toward Kataklysm – aside from their debut – was enough to arouse no interest in me whatsoever, as harsh as that may sound. Three years on from Ex Deo’s ‘Romulus’ debut then, comes ‘Caligvla’, and with it, an opportunity for me to see if this band can convert me in a way in which the ‘Northern Hyperblasters’ have largely failed to.
Before listening, common sense dictated that Ex Deo would most probably sound like Kataklysm; the only variable being what impact the sixth member – keyboardist, Jonathan Lefrancois-Leduc – would have on proceedings. Beginning with the orchestration and female chanting of ‘I, Caligvla’, the impact of that variable is very quickly established. Like something from a Hollywood blockbuster, Iacono’s bellowed introduction of Caligula adds unadulterated drama to the keyboardist’s majestic machinations. Immediately, the sound of ‘Caligvla’ draws parallels to Metallica’s indulgent ‘S&M’ and Judas Priest’s last, unbearable concept album, with orchestration blurting out constantly. Where the aforementioned both largely failed, however, the power evoked by the music of what is essentially Kataklysm does initially manage to provide a more succinct punch to counter-balance the audio drama swirling around all over the place. The nature of this epic, historic death metal necessarily brings to mind latter day Behemoth and Nile. A bombastic yell of “I am Tiberius!” in ‘The Tiberius Cliff (Exile toCapri)’, certainly echoes the delivery of Sanders and co. on ‘Unas Slayer of the Gods’, albeit in the context of a methodical, Kataklysmik groove.
Some of the keyboard work and female vocalisation dotted around tracks 3 and 4 comes across like latter day Cradle of Filth too, but as things progress, the almost inevitable begins to dawn on me: what doesn’t grab me with Kataklysm is even more evident here. Quite simply, Ex Deo’s (blast-less) death metal is just not brutal or dynamic enough to maintain interest, let alone headbanging rage. ‘Divide Et Impera’ could be taken as indicative of both bands’ approaches – whilst passable, and not having anything wrong with it as such, the music is far from mind-blowing. ‘Teutoborg (Ambush of Varus)’ injects a bit more uncharacteristic (though welcome) pace as Iacono blasts exhortations at his centurions to prepare for battle. Thematically, this one comes straight from ‘Gladiator’; musically, despite that smattering of speed and less keyboard, it amounts to more of the same, unfortunately. With ‘Along the Appian Way’, a quasi-black metal riff pops up but as so often before, things play out around a fundamentally mid-paced and not particularly crushing composition. Again, it has its moments, but then you could say the same thing about the entire record. Once the first track is over, the remaining 50 minutes become rather interchangeable and a tad predictable.
Ex Deo’s mission to bring classical civilisation to the metal masses – in this case, Emperor Caligula’s frivolous, allegedly incestuous life – is an admirable one. However, it lacks the scope of a Nile or the savage conviction of a Marduk in doing so. I was hoping for something which would exceed my expectations; instead, it’s like a death metal ‘Nostradamus’ with better orchestrated effects yet a less memorable selection of tracks. ‘Caligvla’ is hardly the most compelling experience, and is not an album that I can conceive listening to from start to finish again any time soon.
(6/10 Jamie Wilson)
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